


no longer held by gravity

by morganoconner



Series: future burning bright [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 03:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: Winchesters have always had a different way of dealing with their feelings than most people. This is probably the closest to normal they've ever managed.





	no longer held by gravity

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a number of requests for more of this verse, and it was really nice to have an excuse to revisit these boys. I really enjoyed writing _shadows_ , and I've had lots of ideas for more swimming in my head ever since. :) I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to zubeneschamali for her beta efforts. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own. ♥

Sam tries, he really does. Dean doesn't outright _ask_ him for space, but Sam knows the look on his face well enough to know he wants Sam to butt out for a while, at least until he settles things in his own head. And after everything, it seems only fair to give him that space.

So Sam steers clear of the apartment on evenings he senses Brian might be stopping over, and he doesn't bring up meeting him to Dean, and he doesn't ask Dean how things are going, even weeks after the pendant incident. Basically, he just doesn't poke the bear.

But after a month of both of them tiptoeing around the subject, he just can't help it anymore. Dean's smiling more, soft, secret smiles he tries to hide. He willingly leaves the apartment more than Sam's seen in years. He talks on the phone late into the night, actually _talks_ instead of just texting like he does with most people. And Sam, okay, he just has to know. Because he's spent his entire adult life worrying after his brother and yeah, sure, maybe he's a little overprotective, but damn it, he's earned that right.

And that's exactly what he'll tell Dean if Dean finds out.

Sam edges into the coffee shop at 6AM on a Thursday morning on his way to the college, glancing around at the tan walls covered in coffee quotes from movies and the framed photographs of people (maybe famous people?) holding Brian's Cup O' Joe mugs as they grin at the camera. Two long shelves hold a collection of the oddest and most horrifying collection of coffee mugs Sam has ever seen, including one shaped like a toilet bowl and another shaped like a rocket ship that says "ROCKET FUEL". It's quaint and fun and Sam can see why this place originally drew Dean's attention. There's a display case in the front holding a decent array of baked goods, including pies and pastries, and the chalkboard menu lists all kinds of coffee drinks and flavors Sam's pretty sure they've never sold at Starbucks.

"Morning!" he hears from behind a closed back door. "Be right with you!" There's a solid _thwap_ , the unmistakable sound of someone kicking a piece of equipment. (Sam knows the sound well, because he spends enough time kicking the third floor copy machine where his office is located.)

"Take your time," Sam calls back, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking the opportunity to peer around some more. There are two booths off to the side and lots of small, round tables dotted around the front of the shop, each one with a tiny mug of flowers in the center. One lone girl is in a corner with a steaming mug in front of her, earbuds firmly in place and typing away on a laptop.

"Hi, sorry about that, we're testing a new espresso…machine…"

The man who comes through from the back room is tall and silver-streaked blond, with bright blue eyes and laugh lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. He's solidly built, in spite of having at least a few years on Dean, and he's wearing an apron with 'COFFEE ADDICT  
emblazoned across the front instead of the shop's logo. He's also staring at Sam with wide eyes. "Um."

"Hi," Sam says, trying for a smile.

"You're Sam," Brian replies, and, well, there goes any hope of keeping this from Dean.

"Yeah." Sam rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry to just drop by, I guess, um. That probably isn't very fair. I just…" He trails off, because how is he supposed to explain? Dean is fifty-four, perfectly capable of looking after himself, but Sam just had to know.

Brian seems to understand though, because he shakes his head with a wry grin. "No, don't worry. I'll be honest, I expected you here weeks ago. Can't believe Dean kept you away this long." He has a pleasant accent, a bit drawling, southern sliding between his vowels like warm syrup. Sam wonders how long he's lived here to still carry that with him. "Anyway," Brian continues. "Guess you better let me have it. Been waiting on the whole ' _if you hurt my brother_ ' speech, I'm ready." He smiles again, clearly teasing a little, but Sam is put at ease, tension he didn't even realize he'd been carrying starting to ebb.

"No, I mean, I wasn't going to –" 

"Sam, seriously." Brian shakes his head, giving Sam a look that's almost pitying. "I know things are still kind of new on one level, but Dean's been comin' round here for long enough. He talks about you more'n he talks about anything. I know you two are a package deal. You won't find me standin' in the way of that, and if I got a shovel talk coming, might as well get it out of the way now."

"No shovel talk," Sam promises with a wry grin, although he's tempted, god, he's _so_ tempted to lay down a few quiet threats, but Dean will never forgive him. Sam still remembers him saying, _Brian's a good guy_ , soft and scared and overwhelmed but confident in that, at least. "Just…I just need you to be careful. Dean likes you, and he doesn't like people easy. Doesn't trust anyone if he can help it. He's…he's been through a lot." It's more than Sam should say, but not something he can help.

"I know," Brian says, quiet now, and Sam wonders what Dean's told him, how much he knows. Enough, anyway, for a start.

"Okay." Sam nods, hands back in his pockets and head tilted. "Then what can you recommend for a good coffee?"

Brian laughs, and more tension evaporates, and Sam thinks maybe this can be really good.

Dean deserves really good.

*

By four o'clock, Sam is starting to feel a headache come on. Landon, one of Sam's more annoying freshman students, leaves his office in a huff when Sam refuses to change his grade on the term paper, and Sam takes his glasses off to rub wearily at his eyes. He sighs, gathering the papers he still has to grade and debating the merits of stopping at the store on his way home or just ordering in for once.

A knock interrupts him as he's searching for his keys, and he glances up, then stills, blinking.

Dean never comes here. The incongruity of seeing him slouching against Sam's doorway leaves Sam boggling for a lot longer than Dean will probably let him live down later. "Uh…" he says, eloquently.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean says, smirking as he raises an eyebrow at the chaos that makes up Sam's desk and the surrounding shelves. (There's an Albert Einstein quote taped to the front of Sam's desk that reads, _If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?_ Sam wasn't the one to put it there, but it's stayed there for five years now.)

"Dean," Sam says, standing. "Is everything okay?"

"Yup." Dean slouches into the office and plops himself down into the chair across from Sam's, leaning back and putting his feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles, easy as you please.

Sam carefully folds himself back into his own chair. "So…what's up?"

"Brian mentioned you took your coffee to go and didn't try the apple fritter, which we both agreed was a cryin' shame." So saying, Dean drops a pastry bag in front of Sam.

 _Busted_ , Sam thinks with a wince. "Dean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

Dean waves the apology off before it can fully form. "No, look, I shoulda introduced you weeks ago. Just, we've never exactly been the Bradys, you know? With the meeting the parents bullcrap."

Sam wants to reply that they've never really had anyone worth it before, but he remembers Jess with a sharp pang that's never fully gone away. And Cassie. And Lisa. (He does not think about Dean's last girlfriend. This is not the time for rage.) "No, we never really were," he finally responds quietly.

"But you're not my parent, you're my brother," Dean says, and he's trying for an easy tone but Sam knows how difficult a time he has with feelings. "That's way more important anyway. And like. Brian is…he's.... Anyway, I wanted you to meet him, I did, okay?"

"Okay," Sam says, hoping Dean believes him and wondering if Dean's secretly relieved Sam took the awkward introductions out of his hands. He carefully doesn't ask, just offers, honestly, "He seems really nice, Dean."

And there it is, there's that light in Dean's eyes Sam still can't get used to, the smile sneaking across his face like it knows it's getting away with something. "He's great." Dean flushes immediately after saying it, but still can't get rid of the happiness all over his face. "I, uh. I was thinking, maybe we could do a whole…dinner, or something, all three of us. You know, whenever." He shrugs, trying to look careless, like Sam's answer won't bother him even if he scoffs at the idea.

Which Sam would never do, of course. "That sounds great. Maybe tomorrow? You want to go to the diner downtown, or something nicer, or…"

"Maybe just at home," Dean mumbles, looking away, clearly uncomfortable even though he has no reason to be. Sam knows how hard it is for him. God, Sam still can't believe he came _here_.

"I can grill up some steaks," Sam offers. "Open a classy wine instead of the swill you usually make me bring home." He catches Dean's eyes again, grins at him. "You could let him bring dessert?"

"Yeah, that…" Dean clears his throat, his face flushed in the bright fluorescent lighting of the office. "That sounds good."

"Great." Sam picks up his briefcase and stands, popping his back as he does. "Let's get out of here then, before another student comes along to ruin my day."

Dean rolls his eyes, hip-checking Sam as he passes him. "Bitch, bitch, bitch. I warned you about this professor business, didn't I?"

Sam snorts, but doesn't reply as they leave the building and begin the trek across campus to the faculty parking lot. (He wonders vaguely if Dean walked or took the bus, but leaves it as one more thing he doesn't ask because it's not really that important. What's important is that Dean left the safety of the apartment and Brian's shop, and came here. On his own. To see Sam.)

Dean huffs a little under his breath, then shoots a look at Sam. "Stop lookin' at me like that," he grumbles.

Sam blinks. "Like what?"

"Like you're about to get soppy and chick-flick on my ass. Jesus, Sam, I _do_ leave the apartment sometimes."

Sam flushes, unaware that he'd been projecting his feelings quite so clearly. "I know. I just." He stops Dean with a hand on his arm, turns him so he's facing Sam. "I'm going to say one thing, and that's it, so just deal with it, okay?"

Dean makes a small sound that could be construed as disgust and crosses his arms, but he stays silent, which is permission enough.

"I know the last few years have been really hard," Sam says, glossing over it because there's no way to encompass the past decade since everything happened with the witch, not fully. "I know… _she_ really fucked things up. You've come a hell of a long way from that, and I just wanted to say that I'm really proud of you, Dean. I'm _happy_ for you. And I'm glad you found someone who makes it worth _living_ again, because you deserve that."

"Oh, Christ," Dean mutters, beet red and rolling his eyes so hard Sam's amazed they don't fall out of his head. "Sammy, you idiot… Okay, look, Brian's amazing and I like him and blah blah blah goody great for me. Thank you. I appreciate that. But he's not the one who made it worth living again after everything or I'da freaking offed myself years ago. Moron. I had _you_. Stupid annoying little brother, always in my corner, reminding me that as bad as things got, they weren't all bad. 'Cause that's what we do for each other, always. Right?"

Sam won't cry. He _won't_ , god damn it. "Right," he chokes out, and lets Dean laugh at him and drag him into a half-chokehold, half-hug.

"Bitch," Dean laughs, tugging Sam toward the Impala.

And of course, there's only one thing Sam can say to that, and he says it with his whole heart. "Jerk."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently fundraising for college, after recently being accepted to the University of Pittsburgh (!!!!!!)...if anyone is interested, more information can be found [here](http://morganoconner.tumblr.com/post/160403536512/all-of-my-past-work-can-be-found-here-my). :D
> 
> * Title (both series and story) stolen from Nickelback's _Million Miles An Hour_ , which continues to be strange because this series has nothing at all to do with whatever drugs that song is referencing but I am STICKING TO THE THEME DAMN IT


End file.
